For Dear Life
by Synbou
Summary: A Rampage inspired fic. Things could have been a lot more different for the brothers that day.
1. Chapter 1

**Numb3rs**

**Season 2**

**A ****"****Rampage-inspired-fic.**

Disclaimer: Numb3rs and its lovely characters don't belong to me.

_**A/N: After months of writing block, brought on by too much work done in French, not enough time and energy, I was finally able to write this **__**"**__**Rampage-inspired-alternate-scene**__**"**__**. I thought that I share it with you. Actually, I**__**'**__**m hoping sharing it will help me get creative again now that RL is quieting down for awhile.**_

_**THANKS CELADON FOR EDITING THIS TEXT. **_

**For Dear Life. **

**Part 1**

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The velocity of the bullet that struck the FBI agent sent him crashing backward on the floor with a loud thump. Still, in the mix of other sounds: glass breaking, people screaming, and more guns firing, Charlie Eppes did not register it. Lying low on the hard office floor where his brother had pushed him down, he stayed motionless and scared.

_So scared… _

A million things crossed his mind at once: number of shots fired, number of screams, numbers written on a back board, numbers saved on his laptop…

_My laptop… _

It was there on the table, just above him. He could not afford losing the thing. So much was dependant on the work saved on it. He had to prevent his computer from being blown to pieces. He had to reach for it no matter what. He could do it. He had to do it!

In a rush of adrenaline, Charlie pushed himself upward and instinctively grasped the machine. He quickly brought it underneath his chest, protecting it with his body for dear life.

The precious item secured, he relaxed somewhat. Only then did he realise that he had seen something odd in his left field of vision. Only then did he risk looking back towards the white board by which Don and he had been arguing almost all morning.

He froze, his skin suddenly soaked in a cold sweat. He sucked in a breath and quickly exhaled. The name of his brother brushed his lips as he did so.

_Don… _

The agent was lying on his back a few feet away to his left. He was so still… _Too still_… A large pool of blood had already started to form on the ground. The red silky liquid had stained Don's white dress shirt as it rolled down his right side.

Charlie distractedly discarded his laptop to the side. He forced himself on all fours. He covered the small space separating him from his brother on shaking limbs. Bile rising in his throat, he reached for the wound with a tentative hand. Charlie closed his eyes and then put pressure on the unnatural hole in Don's chest. He felt the agent's body react to the pain with a shudder.

"I'm sorry, Donnie…" he whispered plaintively.

"Down… stay… Down," Charlie heard the FBI agent order him through his ragged breathing.

"I'm- I'm down," he assured him.

"Bud-dy…"

"I'm here, Bro," he replied looking up to the older man's face. He noticed his brother trying to assess his condition thought half-opened eyes. "I'm fine, Don. I swear. Hang on, okay?"

From the bullpen, Charlie heard someone shout: "Who's hit? Who's down?"

Turning his head over his shoulder, the mathematician called for help with a voice he barely recognized as his own. He looked back down at his brother and held onto his gaze for dear life.

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From the moment he had been shot, Don had put on a valiant fight with unconsciousness. The ambulance ride to the ER had proven to be too much for his assaulted body however, and Charlie had seen his brother lose his battle halfway to the hospital.

The shooting at the FBI office had happened two days before, and Charlie – and everyone for that matter – had yet to see Don's dark brown eyes opened again. After being reanimated twice and no longer able to breathe on his own, his brother remained in a coma.

_If only I had paid attention… If only I had reached for him first_…

"You would have known Don had been hit the moment it happened," Charlie told his father with conviction. "Why didn't I notice right away? _Why?_"

"Charlie, you were scared," Alan Eppes reminded his younger son gently. "I would have been scared too. I don't know how I would have reacted under similar circumstances. What I know is that you did the best you could to slow down the blood loss and keep your brother conscious."

"Dad, you don't understand!" Charlie almost cried with anger. "Don put me _first_. He protected _me_ – he probably saved my life – and my first thought was to save my laptop – _my laptop!__"_He swallowed painfully. He was feeling so ashamed, so cheap. "My own brother was lying- _dying_ beside me and the first thing I did was reach for _a computer! _What kind of brother am I?"

"Charlie, you are a very good brother," his father comforted him. "You have been there for Don time after time. You have been providing your expertise, opening your house and, most of all, opening your heart. You have been there for your brother in your own way more than you give yourself credit for." Alan put a hand on younger son's shoulder. "Charlie, Don's aware that you love him very much. He doesn't always understand you, but he tries. Your brother knows your work is very important to you, just as his is important to him. He knows it defines who you are and helps you get trough life." Alan gave Charlie's shoulder an affectionate squeeze. "And never does he expect you to react like an agent. That's his job."

"But who put Don first?"

"_We do_. Granted, we can't protect Donnie like he does us," Alan replied sadly. "But, at any moment, we can be there for him. We can provide him with a safe harbour to come home to whenever the world he lives in gets too much. That's our job."

A profound sorrow that Charlie often associated with the loss of his mother and his _absence_ around the time of her death tightened his chest. "It doesn't make me feel any better," he confessed dejectedly. He swallowed a lump. "For once…" a tear rolled down his cheek. "For once, I wish I would have thought of Don first – just like he did me. I wished I had put my family first over my work."

"Charlie, that's what you are doing now, Son," Alan assured him. "Can't you see you are Donnie's life line?" They both looked down at Don's left hand. His strong fingers had curled around Charlie's smaller left hand in a death grip. "Your brother is hanging on to you for dear life."

"The grasp's only a reflex," the professor argued.

"Are you so sure, Charlie?" his father questioned. "What I have seen is Don's condition slowing improving ever since he reached for your hand. Charlie, it is from you that Donnie is drawing the strength to get better. _You are_ your brother's secret weapon in more ways than one. He knows he can come to you for help. He knows he can count on you."

"Of course, he can," Charlie whispered. He covered his and Don's hands with his right one. "Don, I can hold on to you like you can hold on to me. I'm not letting you go. You can _count_ on that."

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_**A/N: Thanks for reading. I was not planning to write more, but a second chapter eventually fallowed. I hope that a third and final one will do to. **_


	2. Chapter 2

Numb3rs

Season 2

Disclaimer: Numb3rs and its lovely characters are not mine.

_**A/N: I'm happy to share more of this Rampage-inspired-fic. Thank you all for your support. A special THANK YOU to CELADON for editing this text. **_

**For Dear Life**

**Part 2**

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"You don't understand," Charlie almost yelled, frustrated. It's seemed nobody understood much of anything these days. He noticed movement through the window that was separating his brother's hospital room from the ICU's nursing station. His father had looked up from his hovering position by Don's bed side at the rising volume of his voice. Charlie ignored his Dad's concerned expression as he concentrated on Megan and David. "What I'm saying is that _I can_ help you. I just can't go back to the FBI. That, _I can__'__t_."

"I understand, Charlie," Megan soothed. "You were exposed to a very traumatizing event. Feeling some acute stress is a normal reaction."

"Why are you talking about this as if you weren't there? _You _were there, Megan. So were you, David. You both shot at that gunman. You were there for Don, afterward. David, you even tried to stop the bleeding. Don't talk down to me as if I was some sheltered kid who had witnessed something horrible for the first time. I'm not and _I know_ the shooting must have been just as traumatizing for you as it was for me."

"Charles-" Larry tried to bring him back to reason – away from all these volatile emotions.

Charlie had momentarily forgotten that his best friend was there too, probably feeling just as uncomfortable as everybody else did.

"I'm sorry," Megan apologized. "You're right. I was there, too. We all cope with trauma in our way. Mine is to distance myself from the event in order to keep a cooler head."

Charlie sighed. "I'm sorry, Megan. I'm the one who's unfair. I understand that you need to distance yourself. Don would do it as well. Worse, he would probably joke about the situation in order to minimize its impacts further."

Charlie looked over his older brother's laying form. Don was not out of the woods yet, but he was pulling through this – gradually getting better as time went by.

"It's a matter of time, Charles," Larry comforted him as if he had read his mind. He met the cosmologist's eyes as realisation drew upon him. Again, his old friend was right.

_Time_ – its perception could be so relative to each and every one. It was felt slow or fast depending on one's level of attention. Yet, _Time_ was a constant. Each second was following the next at the same intervals. Each minute counted sixty seconds. Each hour changed after sixty minutes. Days were made of 24 hours – even if it actually took 23 hours and 50 minutes for the Moon to circle around the Earth each day.

Still, there in a matter of seconds, fear had suddenly struck Charlie in the form of a bullet that had flown by his head and had ended its course in his brother's chest. _Time_ had slowed down to an agonizing pace and Charlie's newly acquired fear had lingered – invading every part of his body, every train of thought, and every action.

_Time_ – in the midst of the chaos created by the gunman, Charlie had lost track of it. He was therefore missing an important angle to his perception of the critical event that had almost resulted with the loss of Don's life. That said, to comprehend the nature of that very same critical event and, hopefully prevent another one, Charlie needed to undo the thread of _Time _in order to better study each component.

A knot unexpectedly formed in the pit of his stomach. Tension built in his shoulders. His lungs felt constricted as he breathed. "I need to see a picture of the movements of a man throughout real time. I have to go back to the FBI," he finally concluded out loud.

"What will you need?" David asked him before he could change his mind.

"String," the mathematician replied.

"String?" repeated the agent, not quite following.

"Yes, _lots _of string," the professor emphasized.

Larry nodded approvingly.

Charlie sighed. "Give me a few minutes, please." Slowly, he made his way back to his brother and father.

Don tilted his head in his direction and let his gaze fell on him. "You O-K… Chuck?" he asked, just above a whisper. The ventilator, that was now thankfully gone and replaced by a nasal cannula, had left his brother's voice raw and broken.

_No! I__'__m not okay. None of this is okay_, he almost shouted back. Instead, he bit his lower lip. He reminded himself that things could have been worse – _a lot worse_.

"Sure, everything's fine, Bro," he assured the injured man. "And don't call me _Chuck_," he told him, faking irritation.

A small grin crept upon Don's pale face.

"What's going on, Charlie?" his father asked, having noticed that his older son's colleagues had stayed behind.

"It's time to get back on the horse," the younger man said.

"That's good," Don approved.

"You're ready to go back downtown," Alan validated.

"Ready?" Charlie questioned. "I'm not sure that I'll ever be ready. I know that the possibility of this kind of thing happening again is improbable, but the idea of going back to the FBI office just put knots in my stomach."

"It's O-K… to be afraid… Buddy," Don said compassionately.

"Donnie's right, Charlie" Alan agreed. "You know- fear is a very practical feeling. It's mainly common sense. It tells you not to poke the alligator with a stick."

Charlie sighed. "I know. I realize that what I'm really afraid of is- It's being afraid, _again,_" he admitted. He met his older brother's gaze. "How come you're never allowed to be afraid?"

Don snorted. "I'm afraid… all the time," he confessed.

"You never show it," Charlie stated with admiration.

"Doesn't mean… doesn't exist…. Got lots of people… counting on me," he explained. He offered Charlie a hand. The younger man took it and his brother gave his an affectionate squeeze. "Got people… counting on you… now."

"It's going to take some time, Charlie," his father said. "But you'll see that the fear will fade away. The first time is always the worst."

_Time_ – things could only get better with _Time_. They had to, Charlie decided.

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TBC


	3. Chapter 3

**Numb3rs**

**Season 2**

**A "Rampage-inspired-fic****.**

Disclaimer: Numb3rs and its lovely characters don't belong to me.

_**A/N: **__**It's been too long since I visited this story. I just couldn't make it work. Thankfully, I've been inspired by the beginning of season 5. In the passed one, I often felt that Charlie was very smug. That was not helping me finish this story. Now, I hope my muse will stick around because I miss writing Numb3rs stories. Wish me good luck! **_

**For Dear Life.**

**Part 3**

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Twenty-three days after the shooting, Charlie was back at the FBI building. Standing besides him, was his older brother. Barely a day after he had been released from the hospital, Don had insisted to go back to the office. Charlie had expected their father to object as he had – protesting that Don had barely enough strength to walk unassisted and that he could use more rest – but Alan Eppes had simply nodded to his oldest son's request. It was Don's time to get back on the horse. Their father still understood that need better than Charlie ever could.

"At least, let me come with you," he had finally resigned himself.

"I wouldn't have it any other way, Buddy," Don had told him with a genuine smile.

So there they were, nearing the bullpen. Charlie found himself almost as nervous as he was on his own first day back following the incident. Besides him, Don was as composed as ever. Despite his slower pace, the dark circle under his eyes and the remaining pallor of his skin, the FBI agent projected self-confidence and authority. However, Charlie was not fooled anymore. He knew Don's attitude was only a mask, forged by years of training – both as an agent and as an older brother. He would never show weakness in public. He barely ever did so in private. Though, it didn't mean that he was insensitive to his own fears and sense of vulnerability. Don had told him so back in the hospital. Charlie could only wish that his presence today would be a source of strength for Don as he had been for him that day – and on so many others.

Don slowed down his pace. Charlie scrutinized him with growing concern. Sweet was starting to shine on his forehead. Absently, he was gently rubbing his upper right arm. The limb was bent at the elbow and resting in a blue sling. It was matching the lighter blue dress shirt that Alan had carefully chosen to avoid offending contrasts with Don's pale face. Again, Charlie admired how well their dad knew and understood his sons.

"You know, I'm cool until everything quiets down. After that, my head is a bad neighbourhood to be in," his brother suddenly confessed.

"Having flashbacks?" Charlie asked, knowingly. He had been there before. Well, almost.

Don bit his lower lip. "Guess so… I remember hearing the first shot. I remember… _you._"

Charlie held his breath as Don took one as deep as his recovering chest allowed him. They both exhale, looking everywhere but one another. Don pushed aside his nervousness by turning his attention towards the people that were passing them by. He took the time to thank those who wished him a speedy recovery. Charlie waited, politely acknowledging with a nod.

"You want to go home?" He finally offered discretely.

"No." the agent replied firmly. Squaring his shoulders, Don met his brother's gaze and held it defiantly. "This is where I work, Charlie. This is where I ask you to come every other day. This is where I could have lost you…"

"This is where _you _almost lost your life," Charlie added.

"Yeah… It was a close call," his brother granted.

"Too close."

"Still, this is where I want to stay," Don stated. Picking back the pace, he went on. "This place – this job – it's still part of who I am. I was good at what I was doing."

"You're still good at what you do and will remain so in a week or two."

"Not if I can't stay," argued the agent. "Buddy, it's got to be today."

Charlie sighed. He knew it was an important step in the healing process. Yet, he could not help but feel conflicted as he helplessly witnessed his brother inner struggle.

"You know, I'm no different than you are," his older brother told him compassionately. "The longer I'll wait, the harder it's going to be for me too. I have to do it before I get too scared to walk in there and do my job."

"Scared… You told me you were afraid all the time, but I have yet to see you scared, Don. Nervous – I've seen you nervous plenty of times, but never scared."

"Well, take a good look, Buddy. I'm scared out of my mind."

This time, Charlie was the one to meet Don's gaze and hold it. "Some wise man once told me that it was okay to be afraid."

"He was right," Don agreed with a knowing grin.

Charlie returned the smile and pulled the door of the bullpen open for his brother. Don walked in, confidence in each and every stride. Charlie followed close by, admiring his brother's courage and determination. He could not be more proud of his older brother. Don was not only back on the horse, he was where he belonged. Charlie intended to remain standing by him and to keep faith in their deepening relationship for years to come.

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**The End.**

**A/N: Thanks for reading**!

October 2008


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